The Charge

Lush 1930's moviemaking at its best!

The Case

The fine folks at Criterion have been putting out magnificent DVD releases
for years. Sure, they cost considerably more than the average DVDs, but the
remarkably in-depth supplements typically make the prices well worth it. While
it may be relatively easy to convince someone to buy a lavish, expensive release
of something like The Seventh Seal or Brazil, it may be a bit more
difficult to market more obscure gems successfully. So, Criterion created the
Eclipse collection, which offers box sets of noteworthy (but often little-known)
films by famed directors like Ingmar Bergman, Akira Kurosawa, and others with
easier-to-swallow price tags. The 16th entry in the series is Alexander
Korda's Private Lives, offering four period films of the 1930s directed by
the famed cinematic showman.

The first installment is 1933's The Private Life of Henry VIII, a
wickedly funny historical satire offering a portrait of one of England's most
controversial historical figures. The film slips into standard drama mode every
now and then, but the vast majority of the time it has a sparkle of subversive
cheekiness. It's incredibly lacking in terms of historical accuracy, but the
sheer level of fun to be had here more than makes up for it. The film skips the
King's first marriage to Catherine of Aragon, actually opening at the execution
of his second wife, Anne Boleyn. The tone of the film is set quite swiftly as we
see Anne pondering whether her hair will look good when her head is chopped off.
There's an amusing exchange between a Frenchman and an Englishman on which
country is better at performing elegant executions, and more amusing
conversations between peasants about the execution. "Oh, that's a lovely
new dress she has," a woman says. "I haven't gotten a new dress in a
year." "Well, you'll get a new dress," her husband replies,
"At your execution."

The highlight of the film is undoubtedly the performance of the magnificent
Charles Laughton in the title role. Laughton portrays the king as a jovial
monster, thoroughly self-serving and selfish at every turn. As the tone of the
film is one of satire, Laughton's performance is primarily geared towards
generating laughs rather than inspiring fear, but he does a magnificent job.
It's a real marvel to see Laughton sitting at the dining hall chomping on mutton
and guzzling wine, throwing bones and goblets behind him as he proceeds with
messy glee. My favorite scene comes on the wedding night of Laughton's marriage
to Anne of Cleaves, in which the King comes to the horrifying realization that
his wife doesn't know what is supposed to happen on a wedding night. A bit of
delicately hilarious conversation leads to what must surely be the most mutually
satisfying divorce agreement of all time. The film is only 94 minutes long and
attempts to cover a lot of ground, breezing through the life of Henry VIII with
energetic efficiency. It's a fun lark that I quite enjoyed.

Korda followed up The Private Life of Henry VIII with the similarly
entertaining The Rise of Catherine the Great. However, the film has a
rather different tone in general, partially because Korda was serving as
producer rather than director this time around. Paul Czinner made a fine
substitute, actually offering a considerably more "cinematic"
experience than Korda and also offering a somewhat different sense of humor.
While most of the humor in Henry VIII came from the witty wordplay,
The Rise of Catherine the Great offers a good deal more in the way of
physical comedy and elaborate cinematography. Still, the overall experience is
one that trades in historical accuracy for a sense of humor. The tale of the
marriage between Catherine II (Elizabeth Bergner) and Peter III (Douglas
Fairbanks Jr.) is chronicled with amusing wit. It's technically a bit stronger
than Korda's previous film, partially because it never takes the opportunity to
go for a joke when the situation doesn't call for one. I admire The Rise of
Catherine the Great, as it's a well-rounded and satisfying viewing
experience, but I enjoyed The Private Life of Henry VIII just a bit
more.

The elder Fairbanks (Douglas Fairbanks, Sr.) plays the title role in The
Private Life of Don Juan, a title that deliberately attempts to cash in on
the considerable box office success of Henry VIII. The film marked the
final performance of silent film star Fairbanks, who never was able to
successfully find fame in the world of talkies. When the film was released,
Fairbanks was criticized a great deal by most critics, who claimed that he
simply wasn't capable of carrying a non-silent film. While it's hardly an
Oscar-worthy performance, I found Fairbanks rather good here in the role,
particularly considering the way he satirizes his own image as a romantic screen
idol. The Don Juan of this film is an aging sad-sack who is well past his prime,
no longer able to have the same effect on women that he once did. The film is
one of many small pleasures, including a lovely proposal scene that stands out
as the highlight of the film. The film also offers a very fine supporting turn
from Merle Oberon, who had turned up briefly as Anne Boleyn in The Private
Life of Henry VIII. Korda's direction is a bit clunky at times, but the film
is a lightweight pleasure that I enjoyed.

The final film included here is Rembrandt, which allowed Korda and
Laughton to team up once again. The film is much different than the others in
the set, partially because it actually attempts to provide a thoughtful and
sobering portrait of the great painter rather than turning his life into a giddy
comedy. Laughton and Korda reputedly did a great deal of fighting throughout the
film's production, but somehow both managed to remain in peak form throughout.
Korda's direction is considerably more artful and nuanced than usual, while
Laughton's performance is one of his finest turns of the era. It's a sad,
surprisingly deep film that quietly drifts through the final 27 years of the
artist's life with observant sadness. The one thing it has in common with the
other films is something of an elegiac feel; all of them seem to be saying
goodbye to one thing or another.

The films vary a bit in terms of video quality. The first three films are
all pretty messy, with plenty of flecks, scratches, and bits of grime
throughout. Criterion has obviously put some work into cleaning them up, but
these are a bit below that company's usual standard (of course, these Eclipse
films have typically looked a bit less impressive than the standard Criterion
releases). Rembrandt has fewer scratches and flecks than the rest of the
films, but suffers from a bothersome flickering effect that is present
throughout much of the film. There's a considerable level of hiss on all four
audio tracks, though it's worst on The Private Life of Henry VIII (which
also features very muffled dialogue on occasion). The sound is generally average
considering that these films are over 70 years old. There are no extras included
on any of the films, though the inside of each case offers a few paragraphs of
historical background info on each production.

Three fun romps and one very solid drama join forces to create a very
satisfactory box set. Alexander Korda's Private Lives earns an easy
recommendation.